


Buffoonish

by mrjengablock



Series: Everlasting Amplitude [5]
Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 20:42:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11928888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrjengablock/pseuds/mrjengablock
Summary: Kabuto is still learning how to cope so he shouldn't judge others for their methods.





	Buffoonish

Kabuto had no right to judge others for their playacting.

Every day was still a conscious effort at normality. He didn’t believe that would change any time soon. He still calculated the amount of teeth he had to show to seem happy, the number of times he had to contribute to the conversation to seem interested. Kabuto was constructing a new identity, but this time, he was trying to pull it from the depths of his own mind rather than molding himself around someone else’s skeleton.

Kabuto was struggling. He knew that. He accepted it. That was part of healing.

And he had no right to judge another person’s coping mechanism.

But.

Kabuto can’t help the wince that Naruto’s antics pulls out of him. He acts like an idiot—and he’s not. As a former spy, he can understand wanting to hide your full potential, keep the enemy on their toes, and have an ace up your sleeve.

But Naruto was a legend now, well known throughout the Elemental Countries. He had shined like the sun on a ruined battlefield with power flowing out into those who fought with him. He was awe-inspiring: Kabuto could hardly believe someone like that had agreed (begrudgingly, at first) to help him find the light again.

When Kabuto stumbled, he knew Naruto would be there to catch him. He explained where he went wrong, in that strangely direct way of his. He was the reason that, two years later, Kabuto was still alive.

(In more ways than one.)

Naruto was laughing at an over-exaggerated mistake with a jutsu—and everyone else (the rookie nine had grown up so much) was laughing too. Kabuto had seen Naruto perform that jutsu a hundred times, flawlessly each time. He must have overpowered it on purpose—the fact that the resulting explosion had been more of a forceful push than a disaster was a testament to this.

Nobody could be buying this, he thought. He hated it when Naruto acted like this. He pretended to be the buffoon to set others at ease, to make himself seem harmless.

Maybe it was a way to help them cope, too. Remind them he was just their friend, no matter what prophecy he fulfilled and goddess he destroyed. He understood it intellectually. He hated it.

Naruto shouldn’t have to pretend to feel accepted. Not him, of all people.

“Kabuto! Let’s go home!” Naruto’s voice shattered his thoughts. He stared down at his roommate, hand outstretched.

He took it without hesitation.

“I’m thinking we should have something spicy tonight.” Naruto babbled about anything, bubbling like a brook.

Kabuto made the appropriate murmurs, putting in his usual vote for “whatever you think is best” because he only really liked one dish and they couldn’t have that every night.

They pick their way through the streets, each avoiding the stares of others, though for different reasons. Somewhere along the way, Naruto slipped his hand into Kabuto’s. He almost yanked his hand away. Naruto felt the twitch of his instinctual response and held firm.

This, too, was healing. It was allowing friendly touches for no other reason than that they were nice. It was acknowledging that Naruto wouldn’t hurt him. With a carefully deep breath, Kabuto squeezed his fingers and tried to forget about the contact.

As though he could ever forget anything about Naruto.

Their apartment wasn’t the same one they’d had before, when they first entered into this arrangement. There was only one room in that old one and it was awkward to be tripped over every morning. Their current living quarters, in contrast, had two bedrooms side-by-side, split by a shared bathroom, a kitchen, and a serviceable living room. It was a decent size: Kabuto had lived in worse places and so had Naruto.

It was practically luxury for shinobi.

They entered through the kitchen and Naruto started pulling ingredients out of the fridge. Kabuto made his way to his room. It was frustratingly sparse: a bed with blue sheets, a bookshelf, and a night stand. The only indication that the space was even used was the picture on the night stand, a gift from Sakura last year as congratulations for completing the rehabilitation program.

The fact that it was a candid shot of Naruto and Kabuto, looking over a scroll together, was a point in favor of her being too nosy for her own good.

He liked it though. It was more than he could say for most things. Naruto’s arm was slung over his shoulder, pulling him in while he pointed forcefully at some line or other. It had knocked Kabuto’s glasses askew. One hand came up to fix them, while the other had gripped Naruto’s arm.

It looked more intimate than it had been. They’d broken apart not a second later because he’d seen and commented and Naruto had been satisfied.

The silence in his room was nice after a long day of social visits with Naruto’s friends. It was difficult to get time to oneself with a roommate as rambunctious as him.

Kabuto grabbed a book he’d been working on—a medical treatise on an experimental procedure—and made his way back to the kitchen.

Naruto’s bright greeting smile made his own lips curl upward of their own accord. As though it were natural. This kid, though he was hardly a kid now, had always managed to make him react unconsciously. It was almost enough to make someone believe that he was a real person.

Naruto graciously let Kabuto have a space at the counter to set his book. The rhythmic tapping of his knife, the bubbling of boiling water, and a tuneless humming were the only sounds.

Kabuto traced lines in his book without reading, content to watch Naruto work on their dinner.


End file.
